


Highgate

by mistyzeo



Series: Birthday Ficlets 2014 [3]
Category: Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, F/M, Kissing, M/M, Past Character Death, Past Relationship(s), Post-Hiatus, Snow, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-23
Updated: 2014-12-23
Packaged: 2018-03-03 06:12:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2840960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistyzeo/pseuds/mistyzeo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For teawitherin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Highgate

It didn't take me long at all to discover where Watson had disappeared to, once the date at the top of the newspaper and Mrs Hudson's strangely subdued attitude were considered in conjunction with one another. The sky outside was grey, and there was ice on the eaves of the roof across the street; there were only a few things that could draw John Watson out of doors on a day like this, and since I had no case at the moment, the reasons dwindled to one.

I found him where expected, under a spreading oak, a bouquet of hothouse flowers in one gloved hand and his hat held by the brim in the other. He didn't turn around as I approached, though I knew he heard me. I stepped up beside him and for a moment we said nothing, looking down at the stone standing erect in the frozen grass.

  
__

In Sacred Memory of   
Mary Amelia Watson  
 beloved wife of John H. Watson  
 who departed this life 1891   
aged 30 years  
 "Those who walk uprightly enter into peace;   
 they find rest as they lie in death."

As we stood there it began to snow, the first flakes sticking to the cold headstone. Watson put his hat back on and heaved a sigh. Then he bent and laid the flowers upon the ground. When he straightened up again, I slipped my hand into the crook of his arm. I could tell his shoulder hurt by the way he was holding it.

"I meant to be back by the time you got up," Watson said, still looking down at Mary's grave.

"I meant to lie in until you returned," I replied. The warmth of our bed, even without him in it, had been difficult to abandon.

I saw him smile for a moment. "Well," said he, "shall we go back?"

"I'm not in a hurry." The snow had begun to accumulate on the grass and on the shoulders of our coats. "I just came to see if you needed anything."

Another smile, more subdued. "No," Watson said softly. "Nothing in particular." He turned to look at me finally, and I realised he had wept. Not much, but his eyelashes sparkled with ice and gave him away. He saw that I had observed this fact and he cuffed at his eyes quickly, embarrassed.

"I don't mind," I said. "She was a good woman and she ought to be missed."

"I was thinking of you as well. Those were— years I would not repeat."

"Nor I." I had apologised enough, we'd agreed, but the guilt still gnawed in my belly sometimes. "Watson."

He met my eyes again, and I tipped his chin up with my index finger. His lips were chapped and red, but they parted willingly as I leaned down to kiss him. The wind was beginning to pick up, the snow swirling around us. My toes and the tips of my ears were numb with cold, but Watson's mouth was warm and welcoming. His tongue touched mine softly, and though I could not forget the spectre of the woman who lay beneath us, it still felt right. He needed the comfort; I had returned to give it to him. 

"Let's go home," he whispered after a moment, barely drawing away from me. I kissed him again, for good measure, and we walked back down the hill, arm in arm. As we reached the main road where we might acquire a cab, he paused on the footpath and squeezed my hand. "Thank you for coming to get me," he said.

"You might have stood there until the snow obscured you entirely," I said, shrugging. "And I need you at home to set up that blasted tree, because you know I'm not going to do it." Selfishness was often enough the way to his heart, I had discovered.

Watson laughed. "I do know that," said he. "You try me sorely, Holmes."

"I do my best, dear boy," I said. "I do my everlasting best."


End file.
